


sweet as cherry wine

by haloud



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Aftercare, Blindfolds, Dom/sub, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Kink Negotiation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 03:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20717432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: Alex and Michael experiment with blindfolds for the first time.





	sweet as cherry wine

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from cherry wine by hozier. written for day 5 of michael guerin week--always support the bottom
> 
> this fic is not for redistribution without express permission.

Michael loves to be tied up—loves the surrender in it, like it’s more permission to put down his powers than it really is anything else. Alex expects him not to squirm his way out of it, so he doesn’t. Alex, for his part, loves to gag him, loves to see Michael’s smart mouth reduced to nothing but pleading whines and muffled sounds. But, somehow, they’ve never experimented with blindfolds before—partially because Alex loves nothing more than to see Michael’s eyes, whether they’re dilated with pleasure, overwhelmed and glassy with crying, or clenched tightly shut against an onslaught of sensation. And partially because it’s not something Michael would bring up, either. It gives him a deep sense of security to _see _Alex. To watch every deliberate move of his long-fingered hands. To watch his face, the seriousness of his brows, the shining of his eyes, as he takes Michael apart piece by piece.

And Alex knows all this. It’s his job to—to catalog every twitch and shiver and choked-off moan, to know down to his molecules every single thing that makes Michael Guerin tick. When he brings out the blindfold—a simple band of black cloth that Alex already washed with his own clothes to make it smell the same—his honest expectation is that Michael will say no, and that will be that.

Instead, Michael hesitates. He looks at it and swallows, his throat bobbing twice. His eyes flick up to Alex’s, and his long eyelashes flutter. Every inch of him radiates nerves, so Alex reaches out to twine their fingers together and kisses him quickly.

“If you’re not comfortable being blindfolded, we can throw it out. I won’t be disappointed,” he says, squeezing Michael’s hand.

Taking a deep breath and huffing it out all at once, Michael replies, “I’m…not sure. Honestly. I—” He picks the fabric up off the bed and twines it around his other hand, quiet for a long moment while he holds it and runs it through its fingers, as if testing the texture, the weight. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing too complicated or intense. Not for the first time like this. Just you wearing the blindfold, and me fucking you on your back.”

Michael swallows again and clenches his fist, the fabric straining across his knuckles. “And you wouldn’t—leave the room?”

_Wouldn’t leave _me?

The implication snaps between them like a rubber band, and Alex reacts immediately, shaking his head as he pushes forward and pushes their foreheads together.

“Never,” he emphasizes, bringing their joined hands up between them so he can kiss the back of Michael’s. “And whenever you want or need it off, all you have to do is say the word.”

“Maybe _you’re _gonna be the one wanting it off. My eyes are my best feature.” He flutters his lashes deliberately this time, and he succeeds in drawing attention to them, his golden-hazel eyes, and Alex lays a soft kiss on his lightly furrowed brow.

“You’ve got me there,” he says.

Then Michael, blushing, presses the blindfold into Alex’s hand and falls back to sprawl lewdly among the sheets and pillows.

“You want this?” Alex confirms, slipping off the bed so he’s standing over him.

“I want to see where this goes,” Michael agrees, with a glint of excitement chasing the nervousness out of his eyes. “Take me there?”

“Clothes off first.”

Alex whips his own shirt and belt off quickly, but with Michael he goes slower, takes his time, drowns him in every ounce of reverence he can muster. He slides the hem of his t-shirt up to his armpits, then attacks the bared skin with his lips and tongue, sucking red marks against his chest and belly and leaving them wet and cooling in the air of the bedroom. And as Michael squirms, arching his back, arching up his hips, reaching for Alex’s body with hungry, grasping hands, Alex says:

“Do you think it will feel different, when I kiss you in those same exact spots, but you can’t tell it’s coming?”

And Michael _whimpers, _and he nods—but then he glances away and opens his mouth to say, “I—I might still. Know. With the TK, I can kind of feel…the world around me in general.” He closes his eyes, wets his lips, and continues, “So this might not turn out like it…normally would.”

Surging up to meet his pouty, doubting mouth, Alex kisses him completely, slipping his tongue into Michael’s slack and yearning mouth and not letting him go until he’s panting and squirming.

“I don’t care about _normal _reactions, Guerin,” he says, flicking open the button of his jeans, “All I care about are _yours.” _

Laughing, breathless and a little bit wild, Michael uses his abilities to tug Alex’s pants down his legs, and tugs at his briefs as well, until Alex relents and takes them off entirely. It’s a toss-up, generally, if Alex will leave his leg on or off while having sex. Off is easier in most cases; and besides, when they fall into bed at night, it’s usually off already. Today, though, he leaves it on.

Fitting his hands around Michael’s thighs, Alex pulls and slides him down the bed. “I want to see that trick again, only on yourself. Strip for me, Guerin. No hands.”

It’s fascinating to watch. Michael raises his arms over his head, and as he works his shirt all the way off, the sheets smooth and wrinkle and shift around each movement the same way they would if touched by a hand. And there’s an _intent _and a _distance _in his half-shut eyes as he works his magic. It’s the most alien he ever looks, and Alex loves it fiercely.

As soon as the two of them are naked, Alex tugs on him again until Michael’s legs hang off the side of the bed, a couple pillows under his back, his hips at the perfect height for Alex to rock them together, to slide their half-hard cocks together. Michael matches the rhythm as perfectly as he always does, a grin on the side of his mouth, an eager hitch to his breath.

Alex’s stomach does a slow and anticipatory roll as Michael’s eyes slip shut.

“Are you ready?” He asks, and Michael says:

“Rarin’ to go, partner.”

At that, Alex has to laugh, has to say, “You’re ridiculous,” and has to hold Michael’s thighs steady around him while he leans into nuzzle their noses together and drop a kiss on the perfect bow of his lips.

Eyes opening just a glittering slit, Michael says, “And that’s why you love me.”

“Mm. You’re right.”

Gratifyingly, Michael’s cock twitches at that, and they both laugh into each other’s mouths, indulging in a moment more of rolling friction before Alex straightens up again. He fetches the lube and a condom from the bedside table, tossing them onto the bed, then picks up the blindfold.

“All you have to do is say the word, and this comes off,” he says, and Michael nods.

Is Alex an idiot for not having considered the _aesthetics _of this? How it would affect him to see that band of black against all of Michael’s golden skin, framed by his golden curls? The contrast hits Alex like a fist to the gut, and he needs a second to adjust—he dabs his palm with lube, and idly strokes their cocks together, just the barest pressure, while he just _looks, _drinking his fill. With his unoccupied hand, he reaches over to smooth a single curl out from under the blindfold. He winds it around his finger, tugs it sharply, just once, just to hear Michael’s mouth pop open on a gasp, then lets it spring back into place.

“So? Can you feel me? How I’m moving—what I’m about to do?” Alex asks, and he rolls his palm over the sensitive head of Michael’s cock, making him buck his hips up sharply, making him mewl loud and shameless into the open room.

“I can—I can—” he tries, cries again as Alex’s hand goes lower to fondle his balls, “It’s—not like I—_aah!”_

Rubbing tiny circles with the tip of one finger down Michael’s perineum towards his hole, Alex says, “Go on. I want an answer.”

“It’s not like I expected! I _can _feel you, but it’s just you—there—it’s not like seeing you, it’s just—_you—Alex—”_

“That’s right. I’m right here,” he croons, and, adding just a little more lube, begins to work his finger into the tight clutch of Michael’s body, while Michael clenches and pants around him. And Michael babbles his name all the while he does it—he’s louder, like this, with his eyesight taken away, which is another unexpected factor that Alex finds himself _reveling _in, as he slides another finger home and crooks them forward, petting against Michael’s prostate and making him _wail. _

While he opens Michael up, Alex makes good on his promise, hunting down every single little red mark he left with his mouth before and sucking them back to brightness. Michael jumps every time Alex nips him, every time he moves to a different spot, every time he punctuates his ministrations with a quick burst of cool air.

Michael’s legs are already shaking. Just a fine, occasional twitch, a compulsive clenching of his knees into Alex’s sides, a faint, smooth rolling of his core into Alex’s hand like he’s already being fucked by something thicker, something that fills him up completely.

Quicker. Louder. _More. _It’s—everything Alex had hoped it might be, and he sucks a great big claiming bruise into the side of Michael’s neck, and rasps as much into his ear.

“I love you so much,” he says, and Michael sobs in return. “You’re incredible. Doing so well for me. Are you with me? Are you okay?”

“Alex, Alex—”

“Words, Michael.”

“Love you. _Fuck! _So good—so—I won’t—last much longer.”

“That’s okay. You’re doing so well. You can come whenever you need to.”

It’s almost an afterthought when Alex rolls the condom on and slicks himself up. It’s almost enough to put him in a trance, watching the play of Michael’s muscles beneath his skin as he writhes under Alex’s hands, watching him throw his head back, watching the strong cords of his neck as he moans, watching him suck Alex’s fingers into his mouth when he just touches that lower lip with his thumb.

Even after a thorough fingering, even as loose and pliant as he is, Michael is _tight, _and both of them hiss as Alex slides just a couple inches inside—but Michael bears down before Alex can pull all the way out, and they _sink _back in together, until he fits _perfectly, _filling him up.

“Ahhhnnghh—” Michael moans, long and loud, grasping great fistfuls of the sheets. He’s not bound at all, and apparently he didn’t need to be—he hasn’t moved, he’s stayed utterly in place, and Alex knows that if he moved him, he’d stay there too.

That’s the thought that spurs him into motion, into a fierce rhythm that has the front of Alex’s thighs slapping into the backs of Michael’s every time he thrusts home, a rhythm that has Michael’s head lolling on his neck while he _whimpers, _too gone, now, for moaning.

Alex wraps his palm around Michael’s cock again and makes pace with his hips, stroking him quick and firm, until his muscles ripple, clench, contract, and he comes in thick pulses against his own belly—and then Alex follows shortly after, fucking Michael through it, holding his legs in place around him, into the breathless, trembling aftermath.

When the aftershocks have subsided from them both, Alex oh-so-carefully pulls out, sets Michael’s legs back on the ground, disposes of the condom, and then, finally, reaches for the blindfold.

Michael blinks in the low, low lamplight. His pupils are hugely dilated, and tears have clumped his eyelashes up—and he sniffles—and the first thing he does is look for Alex. Alex tosses the blindfold aside, then strokes Michael’s cheek—then brings his other hand up to cradle his face entirely. That beloved face.

Michael’s mouth moves soundlessly a couple times, then he manages:

“—‘Lex?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, I’m fucking Jell-o.” And he laughs weakly, corralling one of his still-weak legs to stroke the back of Alex’s.

“Good, then?”

“Oh, it was _something _alright.”

Alex laughs at that too, and he takes the opportunity to slide Michael around so he’s laying properly longways on the bed, then slides in beside him. He’ll deal with his leg later—it’ll be fine for a little while longer while he takes care of Michael. And to that end, Alex reaches over to the side of the bed and flips a switch, turning on a pair of heating pads he slid between the sheets earlier, just a little something to raise the temperature and make the bed most comfortable for him.

The minutes pass as the bed heats up, Michael making little noise of sleepy contentment as he relaxes further and further into the warmth and the cradle of Alex’s arms, while Alex kisses every part of him he can reach, muttering words of love into his skin.

Eventually, he pulls back just a bit, and says, “Are you ready to talk a little bit?”

“Mm. Yeah. Sleepy, though.”

“That’s alright.” Alex pauses for a moment, running his short nails down Michael’s arm and back up again, scritching against him while he almost purrs. Then he says, “How do you feel right now? We’ll follow up when you’re more lucid, but. In the moment.”

Michael is quiet for a moment, and he rubs his jaw in repetitive little swipes against Alex’s chest as he thinks, to feel the soft and warm texture of his skin beneath his stubble.

“I trust you,” he finally says, which isn’t really an answer. But he shifts a little further up Alex’s body, kisses him just above his nipple, and continues, “I liked that part of it. How I had to trust you. And I hope you know how much I do—both trust you, and like it.”

Alex takes a deep breath and exhales in a slow and even stream—and then he leans in, and repeats it with his nose buried in Michael’s temple, where the air he breathes smells a little like sweat, a little like skin, and a little like coconut shampoo, and where the air he breathes back out feathers cool and light over Michael’s neck and cheek, making him shiver and cuddle up closer.

“Thank you,” Alex murmurs, voice a little rough, and he burrows in, kisses Michael’s ear. Then, moving across to kiss his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, he says again against Michael’s lips, “Thank you.”

They kiss, with Michael still nearly boneless in Alex’s arms, moving only as Alex guides him to fit as much of him as possible in his arms. All the while they embrace, Alex runs his hand in heavy, soothing strokes down Michael’s spine, trying at all times to touch as much of him as possible. Against each other like this, face to face, chest to chest, Alex can feel everything of him, every beat of his heart, every rise and fall of his ribcage as he gulps down air in between kisses. This gorgeous, incredible man, who has given him the most precious gift.

He has to know _how _precious, though. He has to make sure Michael knows.

“I don’t want you to think I was…testing you, or something,” he says, and when Michael’s head tilts to the side and he blinks sleepily, Alex encourages him to lay his head back in the crook of his neck, so Alex can better stroke his hair like he likes while they talk.

And Michael sighs with a hum of contentment as soon as Alex’s fingers make their first run through his thick, soft curls.

“It’s okay,” he says, lips moving against the skin of Alex’s neck, words slurring slightly. He clears his throat, and continues, “I don’t…mind being tested. Like I said. I liked that part…trusting you, you knowing I was trusting you. ‘S good. Like being yours.”

“You _are _mine.”

“Hmm. I know.” And Michael smiles then—Alex feels it against the slightly sticky skin of his neck—and then he bares his teeth, and Alex feels the little pinch of that too, and laughs.

“You’re mine,” Alex murmurs again, for himself, but for Michael too—who, for all he says he knows, could always stand to hear it a dozen times again or more. As evidenced by the way he snuffles and tucks himself in, knees drawing up to make himself a little smaller, to curve himself in tighter so his knees are almost flush with Alex’s ass, so he’s cradled as completely as possible by Alex’s body. To be extra sure, Alex reaches over and tugs the blanket up around them more securely, holding their body warmth together.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. Just…keep holding on to me?”

“I will. I am not going anywhere for the rest of the night. _You _are all I care about.”

That, Michael doesn’t answer—he just shudders, and Alex gentles him again with one hand on his lower back, right above the curve of his ass, and the other in between his shoulder blades, pressing him close. Michael tries to arch into him wherever they touch, seeking warmth despite the heat all around them, and Alex presses back every single time, giving him exactly what he needs.


End file.
